Parallel lines
by louella
Summary: Gene and Alex investigate a murder and learn about each other in the process. Rated M for explict material. NOW COMPLETE
1. Picture This

_Parallel lines: two lines in the same plane that, no matter how far they extend, never intersect_

**Chapter 1: Picture this**

Gene Hunt slammed the Quattro to a halt in front of the sorting office, striding to the front door, leaving Alex to push back her seat to allow Chris and Ray to scramble out.

Gene pushed through the doors, briefing the team on the way. "Patrick Smith, postie. Found dead this morning by his boss, dumped behind the bins round the back of the sorting office. Apparently he'd been about to go off on his round."

Alex looked at him. Postman Pat? He had to be joking.

"Ray and Chris," Gene went on, "you go and make sure uniform aren't fouling up the crime scene. Drake, you're coming with me."

Rolling her eyes at Gene's back, Alex followed him as he made his way to an office with "Anthony Slade" inscribed on a plaque on the door. He entered without knocking, surprising the only occupant, a thirty-something man in a shiny grey suit and skinny red tie, who was sitting behind his desk, staring at an empty sheet of paper.

"Anthony Slade? I'm Detective Chief Inspector Gene Hunt, this is Detective Inspector Alex Drake. We understand you found the body of Patrick Smith this morning. We'd like to ask you some questions." Without waiting for an invite, Gene sat in the chair opposite Anthony, leaving Alex to observe from her position against a wall, out of his direct line of sight.

Anthony put down his pen and ran his fingers through his thinning brown hair. "To be honest, it's all been a bit of a shock. I told the other officers everything I know." His voice was reedy, the precise vowel sounds not quite disguising the south London origins of the speaker. "The postmen are usually gone by the time I get here. I wanted to get something from my car and the quickest way was out the back exit. I saw his feet poking out from behind the bins. Went to check what it was…" His voice died away and his fingers began drumming on his desk.

Gene leaned forward in a gesture that could have been mistaken for sympathy if Alex hadn't known better. "Can't have been easy, seeing your colleague like that. You were his manager, yes?"

"That's right. Can't believe someone would do that to Pat. Life and soul, he was."

"You don't know of any reason why he might have been killed then?"

Anthony shifted uneasily in his chair. "No, nothing at all."

Alex pushed herself away from the wall and moved towards the desk, unconvinced by his answer. "Are you sure?"

He reached for his pen and began tapping it nervously against the sheet of paper on his desk. His eyes flitted anxiously around the room, finally resting on Alex's, resignation pulling his features into a frown. "It's nothing, really," he began. "Probably completely irrelevant."

"Nothing's irrelevant in a murder enquiry," Gene replied shortly, ignoring the look Alex was sending him. She probably wanted him to be more sympathetic. Was always going on about how insensitive he was. Too bad. Anthony Slade had answers and he'd get them from him his own way.

"No. Of course not." Anthony sighed and looked to the ceiling. "But I hate to speak ill of Pat now he's – you know – oh, it's just so awful."

Alex jumped in before Gene could make some inappropriate comment about how Pat was hardly likely to complain. "Mr Slade, please, if there's anything you can tell that will help us, you really should let us know. I'm sure Pat would want you to help find out what happened to him."

Seemingly weighing things up in his mind, Anthony came to a decision and puffed out a breath. "Please, don't think badly of Pat. I know he was cut up about this. But the thing is, he was having an affair with someone here. My secretary, actually, Mary. I don't know whether Sheila – his wife – knew or not. But, like you said, I suppose it's the sort of thing that can get a man into trouble." He sent a wry smile at Gene, missing Alex's narrow stare.

"Quite right," Gene smiled back, pushing back his chair. "Mary here now?"

"No, I'm afraid I sent her home, she's taken this rather badly."

Gene stood, shrugging into his overcoat. "Well, I daresay we'll catch up with her soon."

Alex remained seated, sending a meaningful glance in Gene's direction. "Guv, I'm not sure we're completely finished here…"

Sticking out his bottom lip in an furious pout, Gene's look was icy. "Come along, Drake. Real work to do." He swept out of Anthony's office, leaving her trailing angrily in his wake.

He'd barely made it as far as the staff rest room at the end of the corridor before Alex began laying into him. "I think Slade knows more than he's saying," hissed Alex, grabbing Gene's arm. He turned towards her, recognising the blaze in her eyes and resigned to taking the flack. "You should've let me get more out of him."

"The man's an idiot," dismissed Gene. "Men like Pat get murdered for one of two reasons: money or women. Given what Slade said, my money's on women. Are you coming with me to question Sheila or are you going to stand there all day looking like I just stole your prefect badge?"

Exasperated, Alex waved him in front of her and they walked together to find Chris and Ray to let them know the plan. Leaving the boys to supervise the collection of the first batch of statements from Pat's colleagues, Gene and Alex reached the Quattro in silence.

Alex was still irritated when they pulled up at Sheila Smith's house. Alex had suggested to Gene that she be allowed to lead the interview, given that the woman had just lost her husband, and he'd reluctantly agreed. After being shown into the small front room by a WPC, they found Mrs Smith sitting sadly on the sofa, sniffing into a lacy handkerchief. She looked worn out, her lined face blotchy, dark hair hanging in limp tangles and eyes tinged with pink. The WPC had warned them that she'd been sobbing off and on since she'd found out about the death of her husband. Alex sat down next to her and began to question her gently. Gene sat opposite them, looking uncomfortable and hopelessly out of place on the chintz settee.

In the end, Sheila could give them very little information. Despite Alex's carefully worded questions and sensitive approach, Sheila was too upset to tell them anything other than that she hadn't been aware of any reason why anyone would want to harm her husband. She'd wailed in disbelief when Alex had questioned her about Pat's affair, denying any previous knowledge of it. By this stage she was too distressed to discuss anything further and Alex had pulled a reluctant Gene off his sofa and back out to the Quattro, leaving Sheila to be comforted by the WPC.

Next stop was the home of Mary Carter, the woman described by Gene as Pat's tits-on-the-side. Like Sheila, Mary was upset by Pat's death and sniffed and stumbled her way through Alex's questioning. Unlike Sheila, she wore her grief well, her sadness lending an air of fragility to her pretty, fair features. Mary told them that Pat had been torn about his feelings for her as he still cared for his wife and didn't want to hurt her. "He loved us both," she whispered, swiping at the tears on her cheeks, "he didn't know what to do for the best."

"Could anyone have wanted to hurt Pat?" Alex asked gently, but Mary could do little more than shake her head in denial. Alex persisted, "Was there anything unusual in his last few days? Anything you can think of would be useful."

Mary shook her head again, although hesitantly this time. Alex waited, hoping Mary would fill the gap and expand upon her answer. She was rewarded when Mary replied, "I suppose he did seem a bit stressed this last week. It was probably just his worry about me and Sheila. Don't know now, though. Wish I could ask him…" She broke off, swallowing down another sob, and Alex decided there was little to be gained by continuing with the interview. She and Gene left, warning her that they may need to return for more information, promising that they would do their level best to find Pat's killer.

Back at the squad room, Alex sat at her desk with a stack of statements in front of her, trying to make sense of what had happened to Postman Pat. Across the room, Alex saw Shaz sitting in front of her typewriter, completely still, a worried look on her face. Alex smiled as Chris wondered across to Shaz, trying to look casual as he asked her to join him for a drink over the road. Alex's smile disappeared, though, as Shaz snapped at Chris before grabbing her coat and rushing out of the door. Chris stared at her retreating back, looking bewildered, before trudging slowly back to his desk.

Alex was about to pick up the first of the statements when Gene barrelled out of his office, his coat flung over his shoulders, ordering his team to join him for a drink or a bottle. Sighing, Alex knew she should resist but she'd lost the battle on that front some time ago. She pushed away from her desk, gathering her coat and bag, and followed him into Luigi's.

Sitting together at their usual corner table, a nearly empty bottle of wine between them, Gene and Alex chewed over the facts of the Patrick Smith murder. "Well I, for one, can see why Pat was enjoying the attentions of the lovely Mary," smirked Gene.

Alex rolled her eyes; she'd known this was coming. "So, just because Sheila's showing her age, you think that gives Pat a license to throw away years of joint commitment and have a fling with some little blonde thing who catches his eye at the office?"

"Come off it Bolls, put aside your feminist bollocks for a moment and look at this through the eyes of Sheila Smith. Her husband of seven years develops an itch only pretty little Mary can scratch. He comes home, tells her he's made his mind up, that he's going to go off with young, attractive, blonde Mary and leave her home alone, nothing but her collection of china figurines and lace doilies for company. You can see how that might drive neurotic, neglected Sheila over the edge and into murder."

"That's what you'd do, is it Gene? The moment someone caught your eye you'd be off, wham bam thank you ma'am and bugger the consequences."

"Nah," Gene growled, looking at her pointedly. "Blonde's not my type."

Alex blinked, momentarily disconcerted. "But anyway, if Sheila was going to do him in in a jealous rage, she'd hardly wait until he got to work. She'd do it at home, when he confronted her. If he did confront her, that is. I thought she seemed genuinely surprised about Pat's affair."

Gene sniffed and took a healthy slug of red wine. "Women can fake anything."

Shaking her head at his cynicism, Alex couldn't help but wonder what had happened to give Gene such a blinkered view of women. Alex's instincts were as good as Gene's when it came to the job but he was always so reluctant to concede that she might have a point. It was as though acknowledging her ability would somehow diminish his own. She took a deep breath and launched into a lengthy defence of her theory that Sheila was unlikely to have been responsible for Pat's murder.

Gene stared into his wine glass, half listening to his DI's indignant tirade, half wondering yet again what she'd look like naked. She'd been challenging him a lot lately, about both work and his personal life, or lack of it. She seemed to have developed these hugely unrealistic expectations of him, and never hid her disappointment that he continually failed to meet them. Why should he care if she was disappointed in him? He'd never asked her to put him on any kind of pedestal. She'd have to take him as she found him, and if that wasn't good enough then too bad.

He looked across at her. She was still banging on, a bit tipsy but no worse than normal, something about female economic oppression, looking flushed and angry and completely bloody gorgeous. He was used to it now. Used to pushing away this awkward attraction he felt for her, to overlooking his uncomfortable desire when she accidentally found herself too close. It was fine. Not worth worrying about. He was used to it.

Alex drew to a close, finally noticing that her arguments weren't holding Gene's full attention. She sighed, resigned. Half the time she actually thought she might be able to bring him round, introduce him to some of the common civilities she'd been used to back in 2008. The other half she knew she was wasting her time. She'd never change him, he'd never be the man she wanted him to be. Didn't know why she bothered, why it bothered her. She should just let it lie but she couldn't. She kept at him, even when she knew it was hopeless and she knew it was winding him up. It was no wonder Gene had stopped listening to her half way through her latest rant.

"So," she finished. "We're no further along, then. Let's sleep on it."

"I can think of things I'd rather sleep on," Gene responded, eyes raking her up and down. She arched an eyebrow in response, knowing he wasn't serious, understanding that his casual flirtation was his way of dealing with having a woman in a senior position on his team. Closing the door on her mental pictures involving Gene and a bed, she rose to leave.

"We'll pick this up in the morning then, Guv. See you tomorrow." She was walking towards the steps to her flat, her back to Gene, so didn't see the thoughtful look he sent her as she left.

Reaching her flat, Alex didn't waste too much time before slipping into her black satin nightshirt and into her bed. She lay on the cool sheets, trying to stop her mind from turning over the day's events, seeking sleep but not finding it. Rolling to her side, she thumped her pillow and curled up her legs, replaying her arguments with Gene over and over in her head. Stupid bastard. Stupid stubborn arrogant chauvinistic bastard. Why did he dismiss her so easily? She hated that she still felt the need to prove herself to him. How could he be so bloody irritating and so bloody sexy at the same time?

She rolled onto her back, eyes closed, remembering an earlier scene in Gene's office as he stood close to her, staring down at her, breathing fire and passion even as he berated her for some insignificant misdemeanour. He'd poked her in the chest as he'd made his points and she'd spat back some reply, all the time mesmerised by the intensity in his eyes, by his power and strength, the indefinable quality that made him him.

Sighing at the inevitability, Alex slid her hand across her body, feeling her nipples pucker beneath her fingers as her body responded to the thoughts of Gene. She imagined him sweeping his desk clear and lifting her to sit on the edge, pulling down her knickers, parting her knees and pressing himself against her. Her hand moved lower and she gasped as she found her slick centre, her thumb sliding across the sensitive nub, imagining Gene bending before her, his mouth against her, sucking and licking and bringing her to the peak of pleasure.

Panting, squirming beneath her fingers, Alex arched her neck as her fantasy Gene nibbled a trail from her ear to her shoulder. She pinched at her nipple, picturing him taking it into his mouth and sucking hard, darts of pleasure shooting through her at the image. Her fingers worked rhythmically against her body, her hips bucking in time, and she called Gene's name as she thrust inside, remembering the feel of his strong arms around her, the thrill of his masculine smell. She cried out as she tightened around herself, splintering in delight, and as the heat and light coursed through her it was his face she pictured. Collapsing, exhausted, onto the bed, she curled onto her side and smiled wryly, catching her breath and wondering how on earth she'd found herself fantasising about her prehistoric DCI.


	2. I Know But I Don't Know

**Chapter 2 – I know but I don't know**

Alex riffled through the papers on her desk, opening and closing drawers, looking for her copy of the photos of the Pat Smith crime scene. No good. She'd have to get the originals. Pushing back her chair, she wondered across to Shaz's desk to get the keys for the safe in the evidence room.

Shaz wasn't in yet, which was unusual – she was often among the first to arrive. Alex remembered how sharp Shaz had been with Chris the night before. She made a mental note to ask her about it when she got a few moments, but right now she needed to make some progress on the Smith case and needed the keys. She opened Shaz's top drawer and retrieved them, smiling fondly as she saw them nestling among a tangle of make-up, perfume bottles and pieces of bright jewellery.

On her way to the evidence room, Alex bumped into Gene, who was on his way in. "Guv," she began, "I think we need to go back to the sorting office. I'm sure there's more would could get out of the staff there."

Gene sniffed. "If you insist. Although I think we'd be better off putting a bit more pressure on the missus."

"For God's sake, Gene, she's just been widowed and there's not a scrap of evidence suggesting she had anything to do with her husband's death."

"Nothing concrete, maybe, not yet, but that's why we need to put the pressure on." Gene didn't really know why he was pushing his Sheila Smith theory so hard when he recognised, deep down, that Alex may well be right in thinking the answers lay elsewhere. Why did he insist on locking horns with her? She stood there, expectant, holding her ground. She always seemed to get her way in the end. No point prolonging the inevitable. "All right," he conceded, reluctantly. "Come and get me when you're ready."

Leaving Gene to watch her retreating back, she slipped into the evidence room and opened the safe, looking for the crime scene photos. Sorting through the files, she found what she was looking for and was about to lock up when something struck her as not quite right. She looked through the files again, slowly, trying to put her finger on what was wrong. Eventually it dawned on her that one of the envelopes relating to last month's Co-op blag wasn't as thick as it should be. With a sinking heart, Alex turned the envelope over and saw that the seal across the flap showing chain of custody had been broken and crudely taped back together. Peeling back the tape, she slipped her fingers inside. Empty. She sighed. The label on the front showed that the envelope should have contained £250 in five-pound notes, recovered from the home of one Darren Sanders, the alleged blagger who was currently on remand at HMP Brixton.

Alex replaced the label as best she could and locked the envelope back in the safe. Remembering her conversation with Gene, she dropped the crime scene photos on her desk and poked her head around the door of his office, telling him she was ready to head off.

The journey back to the sorting office was quiet as Alex tried to decide whether to discuss the missing cash with Gene. She wanted to but knew how impulsive he could be, how bullish. He wouldn't tolerate being made to look a fool by a member of his team and she didn't relish his reaction if she told him that someone had been skimming the exhibits. She'd wait, see if she could figure out what had happened, then tell him later when she'd had chance to think things through.

They arrived at the sorting office and headed first for Anthony Slade, who confirmed that the rear yard area Pat had been found was enclosed by railings and that only Post Office employees had keys to the gate. He did add, though, that the lock hadn't been changed in years and not all the sets of keys that had been issued could be accounted for.

Thanking him, Alex walked back to the staff rest room with Gene, where they'd arranged to speak to some of Pat's other colleagues. The notice board in the rest room held the usual information on health and safety, staff outings and union meetings. A yellow flyer with the union logo in the corner caught Alex's eye and she tapped it with her finger, brows drawn together. "Guv," she began, "according to this there was a strike ballot last week. I don't remember hearing anything about a postal strike."

"Well, you wouldn't, because I'm pretty sure that common sense prevailed and the union lost the vote."

Alex lost herself in memories for a moment, recalling her parents' struggle for workers' rights, the civil war that was the miners' strike, and Evan's despair at Margaret Thatcher's emasculation of the unions after her victory over the miners. Hindsight allowed her to see how the unions were the architects of their own downfall, underestimating the strength of the political opposition and making strategic errors about strikes and pay deals. She considered sharing her musings with Gene but decided his sympathies would probably lie in a different direction from hers.

After clarifying statements with some of Pat's colleagues and reviewing the crime scene, Gene and Alex took the Quattro back to the station, discussing the case on the way. Gene stubbornly stuck to his theory that Pat's wife Sheila was behind his murder, quietly enjoying Alex's predictably indignant response. "Come on, Gene," she snapped, "we've found nothing to link Sheila with the killing. I know you'd rather just arrest the first person who looks at you the wrong way but I really think we need to look further into this."

"I want to pick her up this afternoon." His tone suggested he didn't wasn't in the mood for argument but Alex didn't let it go.

"Another day, Gene, give me another day and I'm sure I can find something more concrete."

Pulling up at traffic lights, Gene looked across at Alex, who was drumming her fingers on the door handle and staring out of the passenger window. His eyes travelled the length of her body, taking in the curve of her breast under the clingy dress she wore, her narrow waist, the length of her legs, bent at the knee as Alex sat deep in the Quattro's bucket seat. She crossed her legs and her dress rode a little further up her thigh. Jesus Christ, was that the top of her stockings he could see? Fucking hell. They looked – shit – lacy. Swallowing hard, he pushed aside the images. Didn't picture pulling her across him, didn't imagine his hands on the soft flesh at the top of her thighs, didn't think about pushing right into her, how sweet she would feel, how hot and how tight. He blinked and shook his head. Forced his eyes back to the road and his mind back on the case.

"All right, then," he muttered. "One more day." It wasn't just because of her legs. Her hunches often paid out. Nothing to do with her legs or her stockings or anything else at all.

Back at her desk, Alex began reading through statements, trying to find the missing piece. She still couldn't make the puzzle fit together and although she didn't fancy Sheila as the killer, she thought she might be able to shed some more light on the question. She caught Gene's attention as he wandered past her desk, asked him to join her in questioning Sheila Smith again.

"What's this, Bolls? Change of heart? Ready to concede that the Gene Genie might be right after all?"

Laughing, Alex replied, "Hardly. But I do think she knows more than she'd told us. She's had a day to get used to Pat's death, to think about whether there's anything she's missed out. You coming or not?"

Was there ever really any doubt? "Someone'd better keep an eye on you."

He reached for his car keys and followed her out of the office, all the while listening to her rabbiting on about acting sensitively and showing a bit of sympathy. "Sympathy for her?" he muttered, out of Alex's earshot. "Surprised he didn't do in her first, if she was anything like you."

They arrived at Sheila's house and were let in by the WPC. Sheila still looked a mess, her face drawn, dark circles beneath her eyes, hair pulled back in an untidy ponytail. Now, though, she had her mother next to her on the sofa to offer comfort and she appeared composed enough to answer Alex's questions.

"We're very sorry for your loss," Alex began, sitting opposite Sheila on the armchair. Alex was glad to see Gene had taken a discreet position in the corner, not in Sheila's direct line of sight, leaving Alex to take the lead on the questioning. "We just need to ask you a few more questions. Help us find out what happened to Pat, help us find his killer. Is that going to be okay?"

Gripping her mother's hand, Sheila nodded. "I'll do whatever I can to help. I still can't believe it. Why would anyone want to do anything to my Pat? He was such a lovely man." Sheila sniffed into her hanky once more and Alex shifted slightly so Gene was no longer in her peripheral vision, distracting her with his eye-rolling.

"I'm sure that's right," Alex replied gently. "So you haven't remembered anything about anyone who Pat might have fought with, anyone who might have wanted to do him harm?"

Sheila shook her head, looking at Alex with a kind of desperate appeal. "I know what you told me. About that other woman. But that wasn't the real Pat. He wouldn't have done something like that to me. He loved me. We were together for seven years. I can't believe he's gone."

"Of course. It must be incredibly hard for you. Losing a loved one." For a moment, Alex caught a glimpse of Molly in her mind's eye, bringing with it a twist of pain in her gut. She blinked it away before Gene could notice and continued with her questioning. "We've spoken to some of Pat's colleagues. He was very popular at work."

"That's right. Everyone knew Pat. He looked out for them and they looked up to him."

"Looked out for them how?"

"Taught them their rights. How to make sure management didn't mistreat them. Stuff about working conditions, hours, overtime, safety, that sort of thing."

"I see. How did Pat know so much about employment legislation?"

"He was the shop steward for the local union branch. Loved it, loved the politics and the argument. He always used to say he thought there'd be a workers' revolution in the end, that there'd be no more private companies and we'd all end up working for the state. He wasn't sure if it'd be in his lifetime but he hoped it would." Sheila bit off a sob. "It wasn't, though, was it?" Alex smiled sympathetically at her, even though she knew Margaret Thatcher would soon ensure Pat's dream didn't happen in anyone's lifetime.

"He wanted to change the world," Alex remarked and Sheila smiled sadly.

"He said we all played our part. If we all pulled together we could beat the system, make it work for everyone, not just the management." She shook her head, reaching blindly for her mother's hand once more.

Alex leaned closer, knowing that her next questions would be painful. "About Mary." Sheila took a deep breath and nodded. "You said yesterday you didn't know anything about Pat's affair. Did you not have any suspicions at all?"

Shaking her head slowly, Sheila replied, "No, nothing at all. I know he'd have been devastated about everything though." She looked at her hands. "He'd never have left, you know. Whatever she said. He'd never have left me."

"Did you talk about that? Did Pat say he was thinking about leaving you?"

"Of course not! I told you, he never said anything. He wasn't quite himself this last week but I never guessed anything about another woman. Now at least I know what was bothering him." She broke off, biting her lip, avoiding Alex's gaze.

The thought of Pat's affair seemed to tip Sheila back into her grief and she began sniffling noisily into her handkerchief. Alex tried to probe further about her relationship with Pat but Sheila clammed up, her misery preventing her from giving any further useful information. Gene had heard enough and ushered Alex out of the sad little house and into the Quattro.

Gene was quiet on the drive back to the station, listening to Alex tossing around theories about Pat's death. "Bloody men," she mumbled as she wondered aloud about Sheila's loyalty to her adulterous, dead husband. "Never keep it in their trousers, then wonder why they get an earful from 'er indoors."

Gene flicked her a sharp glance. "Speaking from experience, Bolls?"

Grimacing, Alex, shook her head. She really wasn't ready to discuss her philandering ex-husband with Gene. For some reason, she didn't want Gene to know how she'd turned a blind eye to her ex's indiscretions, how she'd clung to her increasingly unstable marriage for the sake of Molly, how her ego was only just recovering from the battering of the divorce. Falling silent, she turned her head away, but not before Gene spotted the pain in her eyes.

Gene turned his attention back to the road but his eyebrows drew together in a frown. Alex had never revealed much about her past, all he knew was that there was a daughter and an ex, but he had a hard time understanding why anyone who had Alex at home would want to play away. The man must have been a flaming half-wit. Either that or gay.

Arriving back at the squad room, Alex took a seat at her desk and began reviewing statements once more. She was absorbed in the details when someone dropped a paper bag in front of her.

"Get that down you," grunted Gene. "You could do with a bit more padding." He took a seat on the edge of her desk, staring down at her, and waved a hand in the direction of the statements. "Find anything yet?"

"Nothing really," she replied, opening the bag and retrieved a hot bacon butty. She eyed it cautiously – it was dripping with grease and tomato sauce – but it smelled gorgeous and she couldn't resist. Taking a bite, she looked up at Gene and suddenly had trouble swallowing. He loomed over her, all wide shoulders and ruffled hair and pure Alpha male. An insistent heaviness swelled at her centre as her body responded to his overwhelming masculinity. He made her feel feminine and desirable and very, very hot. Forcing down the mouthful of bacon and bread, she dragged her mind back to his question. "I'm hoping that something'll click. I'm sure I've seen or heard something that doesn't fit but I just can't put my finger on it. I'll keep looking."

"Do that, Drake. You might just be right about Sheila but if you don't come up with an alternative soon I'll have no choice but to bring her in." He lifted himself off the desk and lingered for a moment, watching as she put her sandwich to her lips again, then tapped the desktop and retreated to his office.

Alex tried to maintain her composure as she finished her sandwich but had trouble concentrating on the statements. How did he manage to do this to her? She couldn't remember ever having been so consumed with desire for any man in her real life. She'd dated interesting, respectable, safe men who'd treated her with respect but had never inspired such fierce longing. She couldn't rationalise it. Gene was just the sort of man she'd spent her adult life avoiding, with his barely-restrained temper threatening to spill over at any moment and his angry contempt for the values she held dear. But despite it all – or perhaps because – he made her dizzy with desire.

Why had he never made a real move on her? She knew that she'd never encouraged his flirtation but wondered why he always seemed to accept her rejections so easily. Didn't he want her after all? She admitted that uncertainty over his real feelings was the main reason why she'd never made a pass at him. Well, not since the night with the Thatcherite. Being turned down once was salvageable – she didn't want to risk being turned down again. Straightening her shoulders, she picked the top statement from the file. She was going to stop thinking about Gene and find out what happened to Pat Smith. She was about to begin reading when she was distracted by the sight of Shaz pulling her arm out of Chris's grasp and hurrying out through the double doors. Frowning, Alex put aside the paperwork again, pulled the banana from the bag and began to peel it.

From his office, Gene looked across at Alex as she prepared the fruit. Something made him feel good about watching her eat. Something that had rather less to do with her needing more padding and more to do with his need to provide for her, to protect her. He wondered if she guessed. He stuck out his lips in a thoughtful pout. It was never going to happen. Still. Alex turned her attention to the paperwork once more and took a slow, distracted bite from the banana. Gene stared, nodding slightly. The banana had been a good idea.


	3. One Way or Another

**Thanks to everyone who's left reviews, it's always great to know what people think. Hope you enjoy the next installment.  
****  
xxx**

Chapter 3 – One Way or Another

Finishing her lunch, Alex threw the paper bag and banana peel into the bin and headed for the ladies. She was reaching for the handle of a cubicle when she heard sniffs and muffled sobs coming from the cubicle next door. Frowning, Alex tried to identify the owner of the sounds but came up blank. She tapped on the door where the noise was coming from. "Hello," she called softly. "Are you all right in there?"

The occupant said nothing but stifled another sob. Alex knocked on the door again. "Are you okay? Can I help you?"

The cubicle fell silent and after a pause Alex heard the sound of the door being unlocked. She gently pushed it open came upon Shaz, who was staring at the floor, twisting a piece of crumpled tissue paper in her hands. "What's wrong?" Alex asked softly.

Shaz looked up and revealed pink eyes and cheeks streaked with tears. Alex put out her hand and ushered Shaz out of the cubicle to the sink. She turned on the taps so that Shaz could freshen up, then led her silently out of the station to an almost empty Luigi's.

"Sorry, Ma'am," Shaz mumbled, wrapping her hands around a cappuccino. "Don't know what got into me."

"It's quite all right, Shaz. Everyone's entitled to an off day."

Nodding slightly, Shaz stared at the table, drumming her fingers against the coffee cup. "It's just…" She blinked and swiped at another tear.

"What is it, Shaz? I hate to see you like this."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. It's complicated. I can't tell you."

Alex paused. "You can tell me anything, Shaz, but if you don't want to that's fine."

Shaz looked up and briefly caught Alex's eye before staring down at the table once again. "I can't. Honest. I am sorry."

Nodding, Alex rested a hand gently on Shaz's arm. "I'm not trying to pry, Shaz, but if I can help at all, please let me know."

"Thanks, Ma'am," Shaz whispered. "I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask. I'll get back to the station now. Come over when you've finished your coffee. And try not to worry. Whatever it is, I'm sure we can sort it out."

Shaz gave a watery smile as Alex pushed back her chair. Walking back across the road, Alex wondered what Chris could have done to make Shaz so miserable. Probably been led astray by Ray, she thought with a grimace. Poor Chris. He was a decent bloke at heart, and he seemed to genuinely care about Shaz, but he was far too bothered by what Ray and Gene thought of him to act on his feelings. He was being pulled in two different directions: on the one hand wanting to make a go of it with Shaz; on the other wanting to save face with the terrible twosome. He'd soon have to choose what was most important – having a proper, grown-up relationship with Shaz or acting like an idiot with Ray and Gene. She hoped he'd make the right choice.

Alex spent the rest of the afternoon reviewing statements in the Pat Smith case, learning that everyone thought the world of him and no one could think of a reason why he might be killed. Helpful. Just about to plough through them for the second time, she found herself unreasonably grateful when Gene stopped by her desk, asking whether she was coming over the road for a swift one. She told him she'd follow him soon.

Locking away her paperwork and gathering her belongings, she stopped at Shaz's desk on her way out. "We're going for a drink, if you want to come?"

Shaz glanced across at Chris, who was looking at her anxiously, then shook her head. "Maybe another time, Ma'am."

Reaching Luigi's, Alex made her way straight to the usual table while Gene went to the bar. Alex looked over at Gene while he was standing waiting to be served. He had a good couple of inches on everyone else at the bar and the kind of presence that just demanded attention. She knew that he'd jump the queue, like he did every night. He never expected to wait and somehow everyone else seemed to comply. Taking in his broad back, narrow waist and long legs, yet another wave of longing swept over her, and she caught her breath in its intensity. It was happening more and more often, to her chagrin, and she bit her lip, hoping he wouldn't spot the desire in her eyes.

As predicted, Gene was back at their table before any of the others, despite having been last to reach the bar. He poured them each a glass of cold white wine and raised a glass to her. "Cheers, Bolly. Here's to nailing the bastard who topped Pat the postie."

Alex clinked her glass against his. "I'm sure there's something I'm missing. It's so frustrating. Can't see the wood for the trees."

"Keep at it," he replied gruffly. He had faith she'd get there but wasn't good at dishing out positive encouragement. More of a threats-and-sanctions kind of leader. Yet another difference between them.

"Yes, Guv," she smiled, sending him a quick mock salute. He looked away so she wouldn't see his grin.

After downing her wine, Alex wasn't in the mood to discuss the case. She wanted to put it out of her mind for a few hours, give her subconscious the opportunity to unearth whatever it was she suspected was lurking there. So she sat alongside Gene getting slowly tipsy, the two of them sharing jokes at the team's expense, chatting about nothing, bickering about everything, surprised to find they were enjoying one other's company.

Playing with the stem of her wine glass, Alex toyed with the idea of telling Gene about the missing cash. She hadn't been able to figure out what might have happened to the money and was beginning to worry about keeping it a secret from him. She leaned towards Gene, head on her hand, about to raise it when they were interrupted by a bleary, boozy Ray.

"Bloody Chris," he slurred. "Giving me earache 'cause Shaz is giving him the cold shoulder. I told him to give her the shove if she won't play ball, but he's gone all soft since he met her. Won't listen to reason. S'pathetic."

Alex gave him a level look. "You're his mate, right?"

Confused, Ray replied, "Yeah. Course."

"So why not try offering him a bit of sympathy? Chris is obviously going through a difficult time at the moment. As a mate, perhaps you could give him a bit of support. Reassure him that it's going to be all right."

Ray and Gene both looked at her as though she'd gone mad. "Can't do that," said Ray, confused. "I'm his mate, not his mother."

"Yeah," Gene backed him up. "Ray's a bloke. Chris's a bloke. Ray'll wind Chris up and Chris'll take it. End of."

"Honestly," laughed Alex, exasperated. "Hopeless."

They were interrupted when Chris wandered over, swaying and morose. "Ray," he called drunkenly. "Ray. I've thought of another thing. Wanted to ask you about it." Ray was pretending that he hadn't heard, until Alex stamped on his instep with her stiletto heel. Sighing, Ray got up and led Chris back to their table, looking weary, preparing himself to listen to Chris's latest lament about Shaz's weird behaviour.

Alone at the table with Alex once again, Gene felt suddenly awkward. He caught himself staring at her hands, watching as she traced patterns on her wine glass, wondering what those fingers would feel like tracing patterns on his skin. Christ Almighty, would he ever get over this all-consuming desire for her? He'd long since stopped counting the hours he'd wasted thinking about her, imagining her beneath him, calling out his name. She sat back in her chair, absently watching the chaos around her as her colleagues got louder and drunker, and he glanced at her lips before looking guiltily away. What wouldn't he give to have those beautiful, posh lips wrapped round him, her mouth sucking at his flesh, her teeth nipping, her tongue licking its way up and down?

He was pulled from his fantasy by Alex tugging on his sleeve. She was looking at him questioningly. Shit, Hunt. Pull yourself together. Again. He closed his eyes for a moment, banishing the tormenting images, before turning to look at Alex. He couldn't conceal the flame in his eyes, staring at her with such intensity she was enveloped in it, unable to tear her gaze away. Only a pulse at Gene's temple revealed his discomfort. She curled her fingers on his sleeve and he was sparked into life by her touch. He had to get out of there before he really gave himself away. He bid a curt farewell to Alex, standing quickly and missing the look of confusion that flashed across her features, before hurrying out of the restaurant and into his car, without a backward glance.

xxx

Gene set the empty tumbler on his bedside table and settled down on his side, tugging the white sheets around him. His mind ranged across the day's events, questioning witnesses, taking statements, buying a bacon sandwich for Alex, laughing at Chris, feeling Alex's hand on his arm. His eyes flickered closed, his last thoughts being of Alex, her huge eyes and her glossy lips and her stocking tops, and he sank into sleep.

xxx

_He lay beneath her as she placed kisses down his chest, pausing along the way to rasp her teeth across his nipple, brushing his ribs with her hands. Lower she went, her cheek soft against his stomach, breathing in his scent, sighing as she reached her goal. My God, she breathed, you're amazing. Never seen anyone so beautiful. She reached a hand to touch him, tentative at first, almost reverent, and he groaned as she curled her fingers around him. She stroked his length, gaining in confidence as he moaned his approval, sweeping his tip with her thumb, reaching beneath to explore him completely._

_Want you, Gene, she whispered, want you so much. She dipped her head and took him into her mouth, her lips stretched around him, her tongue licking against his head, working its way against the sensitive spot on the underside. He tangled his hands in her hair, holding her close, grunting his pleasure at her touch. She moved her hand from the base up to her lips and back again, sucking in rhythm with the strokes, then swallowed more of him till he felt that he was in her up to his hilt._

_He was close, too close, and he gathered his self control and tugged her back up his body, capturing her lips in a deep, soul-searching kiss. She straddled him, her knees on either side of his hips, and she rubbed herself against him as they kissed. God, she moaned into his mouth, need you now, please. She pushed herself upright, raising her hips so she could sink onto him, gasping as he filled her. Her eyes darkened and her breathing quickened as she pushed down, taking all of him, crying out with need. _

_She ran her hands down his chest, up her flat stomach, cupping the weight of her own breasts. She flicked at her nipples, her head thrown back, clenching around him. Yes, God, yes, she called as his hands reached up to cover hers, pinching, rolling her nipples between fingers and thumb. He swept his hands down, around her back, pulling her down to him. She kissed his lips, her tongue deep in his mouth, and she raised her hips, thrusting against him. Love how you feel, Gene, she murmured, you're so good, so fucking good. He raised his hips to meet hers, thrusting faster now as they reached their peak, and she nipped at his neck, his collarbone, muttering words of passion and desire. _

_He held on to her hips, urging her deeper, pushing harder, groaning into her shoulder as she followed his rhythm. Gene, she panted, I'm coming, please, and it tips him over the edge. She slammed against him, grinding down, pulling him close as she tightened around him, crying his name, and he burst into her, again and again, a blinding flash, a perfect, eternal moment. She collapsed onto his chest, kissing him, and his arms tightened around her as they regained their breath and fell into a peaceful, contented sleep._

xxx

He woke with sticky sheets and a guilty conscience. It seemed he couldn't escape her, even in sleep. When he walked past her in the squad room later that morning he couldn't meet her eye. "Guv," she called, stopping him before he could reach the sanctuary of his office. He paused, coming to stand alongside her so he wouldn't have to look at her face, and listened as she told him she wanted to speak to Anthony Smith one last time. He didn't have the heart for an argument and he soon found himself once more in Smith's office, questioning him while Alex sat quietly, observing the conversation, an occasional frown on her face.

"So," said Gene. "Something here doesn't quite add up, and we're betting that you could help us do the sums."

"Of course," Anthony replied, "anything I can do to help."

"See, what I'm wondering is whether there's something you haven't been telling us. Something about Mary, perhaps."

Anthony looked puzzled. "Not sure what you mean."

"She's an attractive girl."

"Well, yes."

"And you must spend a lot of time with her. A lot of time here, after hours, just the two of you."

"I don't think I like what you're trying to suggest."

"Locked doors, sharp pencils, a bit of extra-curricular dictation?"

"I've never heard anything so ridiculous in my life."

"Is that right? Only I can see the problem you'd have. A nice bit of skirt in the office, a respectable little wife at home. Could work nicely. That is, until someone else comes along and catches Mary's eye. Someone younger, more popular, no less married but perhaps a bit more likely to leave the missus than you. Would be enough to drive anyone over the edge."

Anger sparked in Anthony's eyes and he slapped his hand on the table. "Ludicrous. I can't believe you're wasting time with this. I have a wife and three children who I happen to love very much. I'd never do anything to hurt them, certainly never have a fling with my secretary for God's sake. What a cliché." Gene looked sceptical but Anthony continued, irritation punctuating every sentence. "I also love my job. If my line manager suspected I was having an affair with a colleague, they'd soon find a way to move me on, move me out even. I'd never risk that. I need this job, it pays the mortgage, puts meals in front of my kids. I'd have to be mad."

"Of course," said Alex, smiling smoothly. "You must understand how we have to keep an open mind, explore every angle."

Somewhat mollified, Anthony conceded, "Just doing your jobs, I suppose."

"That's right." Alex paused, thoughtful for a moment. "You must have been relieved about the result of the strike ballot."

Anthony shifted slightly, glancing at the desk top. "Yeah. A victory for common sense." He laughed awkwardly. "Don't know they're born, some of them. Unrealistic expectations." He looked to Gene for sympathy and understanding, but Gene just shrugged.

"Thank you for your time, Mr Slade," Alex said, rising from the chair. She wasn't sure she was any further forward. Perhaps a small glass of red would lubricate her brain cells.

xxx

Lunch at Luigi's, Alex and Gene almost the only patrons, suffering Luigi's indulgent smiles and knowing looks. Gene pointed at Alex with his fork. "Slade seemed convincing enough, when he was talking about his family," he observed, watching Alex as she nodded. He looked thoughtful for a moment, eating, remembering. He'd felt like Slade once, felt the pressure of providing for his wife. Could understand how a man like Slade would defend his family and his livelihood. It hadn't lasted for Gene, though. Had ended in an icy conversation with his missus, when she'd handed over the bag packed with his clothes and told him not to come back.

He'd been a failure as a husband. He'd got some bits right – never hit her, made sure she had enough money for housekeeping and a bit left over, never complained about her regular Tuesday night bingo and Saturday afternoon with her sister. But he'd got other things hopelessly wrong. He'd been irritated by what he saw as her neediness, her desire to be involved in the detail of his life. Hadn't recognised until too late that it wasn't that his wife was too needy, it was that he was too detached, too unwilling to include her as a full partner in their marriage. It was probably inevitable, the kicking out. He didn't like thinking about it but he wasn't surprised she was on his mind at the moment.

"Gene," called Alex, trying to get his attention. "Gene!"

He blinked. "What?"

"Where were you? You looked miles away."

"Manchester."

"Any particular reason?"

He shrugged. "Seeing the missus this evening."

It was Alex's turn to blink. "That'll be – er – nice," she said uncertainly.

Gene gave a wry grimace. "Not sure that's how I'd describe it. We need to agree some details, finalise the settlement. Maintenance. We're having dinner, going to try and sort it out."

"I hope it goes well," Alex replied, her face carefully neutral.

"Course it'll go well. I've got a plan. I'll tell her how it is, she'll fall at my feet, and everyone'll be happy."

"Of course," noted Alex with a smile. "How could she resist?" Gene nodded, thoughtful, eyes on a point beyond Alex's shoulder. They finished their lunch in near silence, Gene pondering his forthcoming dinner, Alex trying not to examine too closely how she felt about Gene spending the evening with his wife.


	4. Heart of Glass

**Thanks for all your encouraging comments, it's really great to hear what people think. Hope you enjoy this next installment.**

**xxx**

**Chapter 4 – Heart of Glass**

Returning to the office after lunch, Alex ploughed through paperwork, clearing her desk, sorting and filing, trying to find the missing piece in the Pat Smith case and trying not to think about Gene and his wife. She was a whirlwind of activity, giving the impression of being efficient and productive, though in reality she was failing in both her objectives.

Eventually the hands on the clock on the station wall crept round towards home time. Glancing at Gene's office, she watch as he buttoned his shirt collar, straightened his tie and ran his hands through his hair. Earlier on he'd vanished to the gents for ten minutes and come back clean shaven and fresh smelling. He shrugged into his overcoat and pulled on his leather driving gloves, striding out across the squad room and towards the double doors.

"Night all, have one for me," he called, making his way to the exit, avoiding catching anyone's eye. Murmurs of "Night, Guv," and "See you tomorrow," followed him out.

Alex sagged in her chair. What the hell was wrong with her? Nothing a glass of red wouldn't cure, she was certain. Shoulders back and closing her folder with a snap, she looked around the room. "Right then, you lot," she announced. "You heard the Guv. Last one in Luigi's buys the round." With that she pushed back her chair, picked up her bag and made straight for the restaurant.

Sipping too quickly from her wine glass as she leant against the bar, Alex thought again about Gene's date with his wife. She really didn't want the thought of it to be so disturbing. After all, it wasn't as though she had any claims on Gene's time or his affection. He was a convenient fantasy figure, that was all. It was nothing to do with her how he spent his evenings, or who he spent them with.

She couldn't help herself, though. She realised that she'd never asked Gene about his wife, what she was like, why things hadn't worked out. Alex wondered what sort of a woman would have dragged Gene to the altar – a quiet, mousy type who never challenged Gene's opinions and made sure there was always dinner on the table and scotch on the sideboard? Or a brassy, headstrong harridan in the Elsie Tanner mould?

It was a struggle to picture him with either. She could hardly imagine he'd be satisfied with someone who didn't fight her own corner – Gene was too fond of an argument to live with someone who never answered back – but he was also too sure of his own opinions to be happy with a woman who constantly challenged him or, worse, tried to make a fool of him. Perhaps that's why they they'd separated. It would be a special kind of woman who could keep Gene happy and not lose herself in the process.

Looking at her watch, Alex wondered impatiently what had happened to the rest of the team. They'd never leave the Guv waiting like this. Where would he have taken his wife for dinner? What if this evening was the beginning of some sort of reconciliation? But then, if Gene were nothing more than expedient fantasy fodder it wouldn't matter if he was married or single, real or imaginary, alive or dead. So why was her throat tightening and her stomach twisting at the thought of Gene's wife falling back into his arms?

She was saved from more uncomfortable introspection by the arrival of Ray and a few of the other members of the team. She stood a round then joined Ray at a table near the stairs. She suspected he'd prefer she wasn't cramping his style but she decided to pull rank – what was the point of being a DI if you couldn't force your subordinates to have a drink with you when you didn't want to be alone?

"All right, boss," he greeted her reluctantly.

"Yeah, not bad thanks, Ray. Good day."

Conversation wasn't flowing smoothly; all they really had in common was the job. Ray looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Missing the Guv tonight, Ma'am?" Alex blinked. Perhaps he wasn't so insensitive after all.

"The Guv? No. Why?"

Ray took a long swig from his beer. "He's out with his missus this evening."

"I know. He told me."

"Think it's the first time she's been down since we moved here."

"It's really none of my business what Gene's doing with his wife…" Alex trailed off unconvincingly.

"Right," said Ray, nodding. He waited, wondering how long she'd take to crack.

"So… Did you know her then? Gene's wife?"

Ray smirked. Not long, then. "Met her a few times. Christmas do's and the like."

"I suppose she must have been…" What? Pretty? Funny? Permanently pissed off? "Nice."

Stifling a chuckle, Ray shook his head. "Not quite how I'd put it."

Was she going to have to drag it out of him? Come on, Ray, she thought. Help me out a bit here. "Strong willed, then."

"Could say that." Ray stubbed his cigarette out, smiling to himself.

Alex resisted the urge to grind her teeth. The silence stretched between them, Ray apparently lost in some memory, Alex drumming her fingers against her thigh in frustration.

"So," Alex tried again. "She gave the Guv a hard time, did she?"

Nodding, Ray folded his eyes and sat back in his seat. "She knew what she wanted, all right. And how to get it." He threw Alex a speculative look. Did she really think the Guv was such a pushover, that he'd never had to deal with a strong woman before?

"And she wanted the Guv?"

"For a while. Then she got fed up with the long hours, the tarts and the booze." He paused, looking at Alex and shaking his head. "She thought she could change him. Tried to get him to cut back, spend more time at home. Course, he didn't. He wouldn't change for any bird. She gave up in the end, kicked him out."

"Mmm." Alex tossed Ray's words around in her head. "What's she doing down here, then? If she's so happy to be rid of him? Gene said something about the divorce settlement."

Ray shrugged. "Dunno. S'pose she could be after the money, whatever he's got left after the bookies and the offie. Knowing her, she'll be trying to squeeze every penny out of him, and then a bit more."

Ray fell silent again as Alex watched Shaz and Chris arrive, walking stiffly to a booth in the corner, not looking at each other, sitting awkwardly together. Ray drained the last of his pint. "Just gonna…" he said, pushing back his chair and wondering across to Shaz and Chris's table. He sat with them and Alex looked on sadly as their faces betrayed their relief at the company.

Refilling her wine glass, Alex wondered back to a stool at the bar. She rested her head on her hand and tried to clear her thoughts of Gene. It was a losing battle. Well, at least she didn't have to torture herself with images of Gene and his faceless missus enjoying themselves in the back of the Quattro. If her mind was going to insist on focusing on him, the least she could do was make sure she was the woman in the scene. She gave a wry smile and closed her eyes, picturing the two of them together, making imaginative use of the filing cabinet in the evidence room.

As pleasant as the daydream was, she found herself distracted by a thought nagging on the edge of her consciousness. Pulling her eyebrows together in a frown, she willed it away but it was too late. The thought had already taken hold.

The money. The missing cash from the evidence room. A cold wave washed through her as she pinned down the elusive thought and she was suddenly glad she hadn't told Gene about what she'd found. Missing money. Gene's cash-grabbing wife. What did two and two make?

Surely he wouldn't. The Gene she thought she knew – she didn't want it to be him. But how well did she know him really? She thought back to Sam Tyler's notes. He'd recounted plenty of incidents when Gene had pushed the boundaries of acceptable behaviour. Those had all been justified on the basis that they helped get the right result in the end. But Alex knew that it was a slippery slope, that once you started breaking the rules it became easier and easier to explain away your actions.

Alex felt desolate. Not only having to wrestle with her jealousy over Gene's wife, she now also had to cope with the idea that Gene may be lifting cash from the station. It couldn't be him. But anyone could have access to the keys to the safe, Shaz didn't exactly keep them securely stored away. And no one would question what the Guv was doing in the evidence room. Somehow it seemed all too plausible.

She remained sitting at the bar, finishing one bottle of wine and moving on to a second without really noticing. Lost in thought over Gene, the shiraz adding to her sense of confusion, she ran scenario after scenario through her head. Gene announcing a move back to Manchester, arm in arm with the missus and wearing a satisfied smirk. Gene being carted away by some nerdy internal investigations officer for theft and corruption. Gene sweeping her off her feet and onto her back –

No! Not that. The alcohol had sapped her powers of reasoning but she knew she was way too angry with him right now even to contemplate such an encounter. The team had noticed her increasingly sour mood and had largely left her alone, and she'd spent the evening drinking herself miserable, swapping between righteous indignation and angry despair.

Alex had blearily poured the last of the second bottle when she sensed someone take the stool next to her. It took her a moment longer than it should have to realise. "Gene," she said carefully, eyes narrowed in confusion. "What are you doing here? Thought you were out with your 'wife'."

Gene pouted as her fingers traced quotation marks in the air as she spoke. "I've told you to stop doing that," he replied gruffly, gesturing at her hands. "Had to pick something up from the office. Thought I'd stop in for a pint on my way home." The only thing Gene had left in his office was his hip flask, and it wasn't as though he hadn't any spares. He was hardly going to tell her the real reason for coming back, though. That dinner with his wife – soon, thankfully, to be ex-wife – had been so soul destroying that he'd been driven to come back here, to see if Alex was here, to draw reassurance from her strength and her warmth.

He peered closer at her. Oh. Perhaps less strong and warm this evening than drunk and disorderly. Looked like he had some catching up to do. He put out his hand to signal for another bottle when Alex turned on him, gripping his arm tightly as she frowned in his direction.

"Have a nice evening, did you?" She leant towards him, lids heavy, pronouncing each word carefully. An acid smile twisted on her face. "You and the delightful Mrs Hunt?"

Gene stared at her for a moment, wondering exactly how much she'd had to drink. "Not especially," he replied.

She couldn't stop herself; the wine and the anger made it come tumbling out. "Didn't feel like a quick roll in the hay, then? For old time's sake?"

"What?"

"Or did she turn you down? Can't say I'd blame her, but then she can't have had all that much sense to have married you in the first place."

"Hang on a minute, Bolly."

"No, no, you hang on." Alex clutched the bowl of the wineglass, picking it up and waving it dangerously close to Gene's white shirt, pointing her index finger at him accusingly. "You think you can have whatever you want, push your way through every problem, throw your weight around make everyone fall into line. You know what you are, Gene? You're a bully." She nodded at him, folding her arms clumsily, spilling a few drops of red on the floor, daring him to deny her accusations.

Gene looked along his nose at her. "As usual, Bolly, I haven't got the faintest idea what you're on about. But I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume it's the booze talking." He tried to disguise the disappointment in his eyes, although he suspected she was too far gone to notice anyway. What had he done to her this time? He'd thought she was coming round. And what was all that rubbish about his missus? "Maybe it's time you went home, before you say something else you'll regret."

"Ooh, that's just typical," Alex spat. "Can't stand the truth. Rather brush it aside. Well, you won't get rid of me that easily, Gene Hunt."

"More's the pity," he muttered under his breath.

She set down her glass with a thump, sending a few more drops over the side, and slapped both hands down on the bar. Luigi, polishing glasses from a discreet distance, sent Gene a sympathetic glance.

"You know your problem, Gene?"

"My grace under pressure? My innate charm and good looks?" He needn't have bothered; she didn't pause long enough to hear him.

"Your problem is that you're so arrogant you refuse to play by anybody else's rules. Your wife wants cash? You'll skim a bit so she can have it. Easy." She frowned, deflated suddenly, and carried on in a mumble. "Don't even know why I'm disappointed. Should've known better."

"Alex," Gene sighed, exasperated. "Is there any point in continuing this conversation? Or shall we skip the bit where you give me ten shades of grief and proceed straight to the part where you stalk off in a huff?"

"Smart answer to everything," snapped Alex. "Well, you won't get out of this one with a – a – a throwaway line and a cheeky grin." She took another slug from the wineglass, wiping a hand across her mouth and smearing her lipstick as she replaced the glass unsteadily on the bar.

Gene began to lose patience. "I'm not trying to get out of anything, love. Look, I think it's time you went home. I'll help you upstairs."

"Oh, that'd be right, wouldn't it?" Alex was shouting now, not caring that she could be heard across the whole restaurant. "Think you can charm your way out of anything. We'll, I'm not buying," she yelled, swaying slightly on the stool and grabbing onto the bar for stability. All Alex's increasing hurt and confusion came out in her tirade. "No wonder your missus turned you down for a little reunion quickie. No woman would end up in the sack with you out of choice. Certainly not twice."

It was the drink talking, Gene told himself. Something was winding her up – God knew what – and she was just ranting at the first idiot to get in her way. Didn't mean anything. "Listen, Alex," he hissed in her ear. "As interesting as this conversation is, perhaps it's one we could have another time. A little more privately. With a little less volume."

"Cover it up, you mean?" she asked loudly. "That'd be just like you. Well, I'm not covering anything up for you. Oh no. So you can just put that money back where you found it, Gene, and if you're very lucky I won't tell anyone what I know."

Gene sat back, baffled. He didn't need this. He'd had a shit evening haggling with the wife and he'd hoped for a quiet pint and a little understanding. Instead the one person who could make him feel better was doing her damnedest to make him feel worse. "You're making even less sense than usual, Bolls," he said angrily, sliding off the stool and picking up his overcoat. "Perhaps you'll take my advice for a change and get yourself home. I'll see you tomorrow. Don't even think about being late."

"Don't worry," Alex replied, missing the bar with her wineglass but barely even noticing as it smashed to the floor. "I'm off." She slipped off her stool and strode carefully towards the door. "And to think," she threw over her shoulder as she left, "I was beginning to change my opinion of you. Which makes me an even bigger fool than you." With that she banged through the doors and left in the direction of her flat.

Gene sat back on his stool, lighting a cigarette with hands that trembled slightly. Even now he wanted her. She'd looked beautiful, her anger and her drunkenness adding colour to her cheeks and sparks to her eyes. There really was no contest when it came to who was the bigger fool.

Catching Luigi's eye, he signalled for another bottle. He wasn't nearly drunk enough yet to go home alone. With his back to the room, he didn't notice Shaz leaving her table, pulling her hand from Chris's, her eyes suspiciously bright as she dashed through the door and into the night.


	5. I'm Gonna Love You Too

**Chapter 5 – I'm Gonna Love You Too**

Alex pushed carefully through the double doors, pink-rimmed sunglasses balancing precariously on her head, and headed straight to the kitchen. The only way she'd get through this morning was by mainlining caffeine, starting now.

Gingerly filling the kettle and spooning coffee into a cup, she leant against the cabinets for support, pressing her hands to her head. Never again. She was a grown woman, for God's sake, not some idiotic teenager, and she should know better than to spend the evening in the company of a bottle of wine and her maudlin thoughts. She hadn't even eaten. What a bloody idiot.

She groaned as she remembered accusing Gene of stealing the money. It was all a bit of a blur. She didn't think she'd been explicit about her suspicions – Gene probably hadn't understood half of what she'd been babbling on about – but she was still mortified. Taking a fortifying gulp of coffee, she winced as it burnt a numbing trail down her throat.

She'd done a lot of thinking since she'd woken up and found herself shivering on top of the sheets, with a pounding head, roiling stomach and a tongue like a tennis ball. Standing under the shower, trying to wash away the hangover, she'd cringed at how she'd got carried away. She'd done what she'd always accused Gene of doing – theorising without evidence, accusing him based on the flimsiest of circumstances – and as the first beams of daylight filtered into the flat, she'd understood the depth of her mistake.

Of course Gene didn't take the money. She knew he'd often sailed close to the wind – still did, when he thought the end result would warrant it. But never for personal gain. She'd felt like death, forcing down some dry toast as she sat shakily at her kitchen table, but an unexpected rush of warmth had washed through her at her realisation. This was Gene. The man who'd leant a suit to a snout to help with his custody hearing. The man who'd put aside his prejudices to support Marcus Johnstone after he'd shot Simon Neary. The man who'd sat with Delphine Parks' mother as she'd grieved in church. And the man who'd rescued her more times than she cared to remember. Who'd held her and shared his strength with her when she'd thought she was dying deep underground.

This was the real Gene. He hid it well, she knew. He'd certainly hidden it from her for long enough. But at her kitchen table that morning, it had all finally fallen into place. She had no idea where it was going to lead but at least she was no longer so clueless about where she wanted it to go.

For now, though, she had to get through this hangover and try to get a result on the Pat Smith case. Gripping the coffee mug for strength, she walked slowly back to her desk and sat down carefully. She took a deep breath and picked up the first statement.

From his office, Gene watched as Alex began reading through the Smith paperwork. She looked as bad as he'd ever seen her – dark circles under her eyes, greenish tinge to her cheeks and hair that was even more out of control than usual. He did his usual internal check – yep, despite looking like a gorgon, he still wanted her.

She was bending over a file, resting her head on her hands, obviously finding holding herself upright something of a struggle. He smiled behind his hand. She'd put a lot away last night, even by their usual standards, and she was paying for it today.

Gene pulled his notebook towards him, trying to look as though he was doing something useful. He really had to stop wasting so much time thinking about her. What had she been going on about last night, anyway? Changing her opinion about him, eh? That couldn't hurt – she couldn't think any worse so she must have meant she was beginning to think better. But there was something else – something about money and putting it back. Typical bloody nonsense. He wished, not for the first time, that he could get inside her head. All right. Not just her head.

Oblivious of Gene's musings, Alex ploughed her way painfully through the statements. Something wasn't adding up. She read Sheila's evidence again, frowning, then rose to her feet, about to see whether Gene could help dislodge the idea. She didn't get far before Shaz caught her arm, looking pale and tired. "Can I have a word, please, Ma'am," she asked quietly, eyes glancing around the squad room nervously.

"Of course," Alex replied. "Somewhere a bit more private?"

Shaz nodded, and the two women made their way out of the squad room and into the canteen. Alex bought them both coffees – she certainly needed one and from the look of Shaz, a little extra caffeine wouldn't go amiss there either. She joined Shaz at a table in the corner.

"So," said Alex, looking at Shaz as steadily as she was able. "Things haven't got any better since we last spoke?"

At this, Shaz took a deep breath and returned Alex's gaze. "I'm so sorry, Ma'am" she said quietly. "I've done something really stupid and I just don't know what to do next." She paused and looked away for a moment, reaching into her pocket for a handkerchief.

"Go on," prompted Alex softly, watching as Shaz began crumpling the hankie between her fingers.

"It's the money, Ma'am," whispered Shaz. "From the safe. I took it."

"_You_ took it? But Shaz, _why_?" The shock at Shaz's words cut through Alex's hangover better than any painkiller.

"I didn't know what to do for the best. I just couldn't see any way out of it. And now it's all gone so horribly wrong." Shaz gulped and looked worryingly close to tears.

Alex was bewildered. Why on earth would Shaz, of all people, have taken the money? Alex had never known anyone so honest and trustworthy. Innocence seemed to shine out of her. "I don't understand," Alex said gently. "Tell me what happened."

Slowly the story unfolded. Shaz confessed to having an unpleasant ex-boyfriend who'd threatened to tell Chris some secrets of Shaz's past unless Shaz could pay him off. "The thing is, Ma'am," Shaz concluded sadly, "the stuff he was going to tell Chris about – I was just so ashamed. He talked me into doing things that I should never have done. I'd die if Chris ever found out. I couldn't bear it." Shaz's cheeks soaked with colour as she stared at the table top, tapping her teaspoon nervously against her cup.

Alex looked sympathetically at her colleague. "Oh, Shaz. You're right. You did do something really very daft. But," she added resolutely, "it's not irretrievable." Shaz looked up at her with such fragile hope that Alex's heart nearly broke.

"But I could lose everything. My job. Chris. Oh God, Ma'am. I can't believe I was so stupid."

"Listen, Shaz," said Alex, resting a hand on her arm. "I can't pretend that this isn't serious. I'm going to have to tell the Guv." Shaz winced but nodded. "But leave it with me. I'm sure we can find a way through this. And try not to worry."

Shaz gave Alex a weak smile. "I heard you last night," she said awkwardly. "You and the Guv. You were accusing him of taking the money. I knew then that I'd have to tell you. Couldn't have you blaming anyone else, specially not the Guv."

Grimacing, Alex shook her head. "Don't worry about the Guv. You're not the only one who's done something stupid. I'd already worked out it wasn't him. I'll apologise if I have to, but I'm sure I can talk him round."

Some of Shaz's spirit appeared to have returned as she sent Alex a glance. "I'm sure you can, Ma'am," she said as she pushed away from her table. "And thank you," she added. "If you can help, I'll be ever so grateful."

"Please, don't mention it. But one thing – I do think you should talk to Chris. You don't have to tell him everything, if you don't want to. But don't underestimate him. He can probably cope with knowing more than perhaps you expect."

Returning to her desk, Alex was relieved to find that her hangover appeared to have abated somewhat. She smiled as she saw Shaz stop by Chris's desk, asking him to join her for a drink that evening. Chris eagerly agreed. Alex was pretty confident that they'd work it out between them. Not everyone needed to be as miserable as she and Gene.

She sighed as she picked up Sheila's statement once more. She remembered she'd been about to talk something over with Gene. Skimming through it, one particular paragraph caught her eye and she walked straight into his office, unsure whether she was right to feel excited or whether she was reading too much into it.

"Look at this," she said, dropping the statement on his desk and pointing to the paragraph.

"Come in," Gene replied, eyebrow raised. "Can I help you?"

"Sorry. But look. Sheila told us that Pat's union was pretty militant. Almost revolutionary. You remember, she said how important it'd been to Pat, looking after the workers, trying to change the world. How he'd loved the political argument and the passionate debate."

Gene nodded. "All true. And?"

"So how did the union lose the strike ballot? You said you thought common sense prevailed – well, unions today aren't exactly known for their common sense, are they? Certainly not when people like Pat are shop stewards. You'd have thought they'd have jumped at the chance to withdraw their labour."

"Smith would've been involved in organising that strike ballot, being shop steward."

"And who benefited from the union voting against the strike?"

"Slade?"

"Slade."

"Get your coat, love. We've got a package to collect."

xxx

Alex laughed as Ray cracked open a bottle of fizz, spraying it over a hapless Chris before actually getting some into glasses. She picked one up, her eyes automatically seeking Gene's as she raised her glass in a toast.

"Here's to another one behind bars," he growled in her ear, watching as she nodded and sipped her drink in agreement.

Turned out Alex's hunch had been spot on. They'd brought Slade in that morning and under Alex and Gene's own version of good-cop-bad-cop he'd confessed to Pat's murder. Slade had been terrified of losing his job if the union voted in favour of strike action so he'd tried to find a way of making sure that the union lost the ballot. He'd known Pat's position as shop steward meant he'd have a key role in organising the strike ballot, so he'd approached him and persuaded him to rig the results against the strike. Slade said Pat had been reluctant at first but Slade had threatened to expose Pat's affair with Mary if he didn't comply. In the end, Pat had agreed to fix the election but his conscience had bothered him and he'd let Slade know he was going to tell the union leaders what he'd done. Slade couldn't allow that to happen – his devotion to his family was genuine and he couldn't risk putting his job on the line – and he'd seen no way out other than silencing Pat permanently.

Walking with Gene to their usual corner table, Alex allowed herself to enjoy a wave of satisfaction at having wrapped up the case. She felt sorry for Sheila; not only having to lose her husband but to discover his infidelity at the same time. Bloody men.

Speaking of which, she watched as Chris and Shaz took another table across the restaurant from them. Shaz's ex hadn't done his gender any favours in the reputation stakes. Alex stiffened her spine. "Gene," she began, looking him clearly in the eye. "I'm sorry about last night. I accused you of something I shouldn't have and I want to apologise."

Gene raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You've lost me, love. I remember you mouthing off well enough, but you didn't make the effort to explain yourself very clearly. Still, I'm never one to turn down an apology from you – they're rare enough to be valuable."

"Yes, well. The thing is, there was some cash missing from the safe in the evidence room. Two-hundred and fifty pounds. I thought – well – I thought you might have taken it."

Gene pushed out his lips as he considered her words. "You honestly thought I'd have dipped into the safe and stolen cash from the station?" Did she really have such a low opinion of him? He'd thought she was getting beneath the layers, beginning to understand what he was really about. Guess not. What was the point, anyway?

"Gene, I'm sorry. I was drunk." And jealous and lonely and stupid. "I realised this morning that it wouldn't have been you. I just wanted you to know that. And to tell you I was sorry."

Nodding slightly, Gene didn't push it. At least she'd stopped accusing him. A few years ago, she might have been right to suspect him, but not any more. Not since Sam and Harry Woolfe. Pushing that thought away, he returned to the matter in hand. "So who did take it then, Miss Marple?"

"I'm afraid it was Shaz. She knows she's made a mistake and I'm positive it won't happen again. She had good reasons but you'll have to trust me on that – I can't betray her confidence." She paused and looked at Gene. "The money's been returned and I hope that can be the end of it." Alex didn't add that she'd loaned Shaz the replacement cash on a very long term repayment basis.

"You want me to cover something up?" Gene frowned but his eyes were shining with mischief.

"It's all in a good cause," smiled Alex, optimistic that Shaz had learned from her experience and wouldn't be so foolish in future. Everyone deserved a second chance.

Alex looked across at Gene, who was absently rooting in his jacket pocket for his cigarette packet. A wave of longing washed over her as she took in his profile, his strong jaw, broad shoulders, unbuttoned shirt, loosely hanging tie. He took in a lungful of smoke and she watched his mouth as he breathed it out across the room. Good lord. What else could those lips do? What would Gene be like as a lover? Would he take his time, be generous with his attentions, investigating every part of her body, slowly brining her to the peak of ecstasy? Or would it be fast and hard and dirty and rude? She yearned to find out.

His fingers were fiddling with a matchbox and she pictured them tracing patterns across her skin. Why didn't he want her? He was so forceful at work, so sure of himself and what he wanted. She needed him to be that way with her. Needed him to take the decision out of her hands, to prove to her that despite their differences, they could work. He needed to make her believe that he was real.

Gene broke into her thoughts. "World record, Bolly." She looked at him questioningly. "It's been at least sixty seconds since you spoke. Must have something very important on your mind to keep you quiet that long."

She lifted her chin. Colour was seeping into her cheeks and he read something unexpected in her eyes. It had only been a throwaway line but the look she was trying to hide made him wonder what exactly she'd been thinking about.

"Nothing important, Gene," she replied, casting around for a topic to move the conversation on. Unfortunately, she couldn't think fast enough. "Just wondered how things went with your wife last night." Great, Alex. That'll throw him off the scent.

"Well," Gene frowned. "She wants my house, my savings and my bollocks on a plate. I got to keep my bollocks."

Alex grimaced sympathetically. "Not much fun, then?"

"Only if you enjoy having your every failing identified and catalogued for the benefit of some blood-sucking divorce lawyer." He looked at her. "Why? Jealous?"

Jealous? Was it jealousy, the way thinking of his missus made her insides twist? Tightened her throat so that she could barely swallow? "Yes," she surprising them both. Why on earth had she said that? She tried to backtrack quickly. "I mean, it's just, you know, I've got used to having you around. In the evenings, in here." She rolled her eyes. "I had to make do with Ray."

"I can see that would be unfortunate," Gene said automatically, still thinking about her confession. Was there a chance after all? So many months of waiting, watching from a distance. He'd lost count of the number of flirtatious one-liners he'd dropped her way, how many light-hearted propositions she'd ignored or brushed off. He'd maintained a degree of plausible deniability – kept the depth of his feelings concealed. But if he did anything less equivocal – went for a touch, say, or a kiss – well, that would be it. No more denial. Could he risk rejection?

The atmosphere thickened suddenly between them. Alex's nerves were taut, sensitive to Gene's every sound and movement. Her desire made her clumsy and she reached blindly for her glass, misjudging the distance and sending it flying. She gasped as the red wine splashed across Gene's shirt and, flustered, she leant across, trying to dab at the stain with a napkin. He grabbed her wrist and she froze, aware suddenly of her position, leaning in to him, her hand on his chest. Raising her eyes to his, she babbled breathlessly, "Sorry, don't know what happened, made a terrible mess, really sorry, sure it'll come out."

"Bolls," Gene growled, holding her wrist against him.

She was so close, her lips just moments from his, and he couldn't take his eyes from them. Tightening his hold almost imperceptibly, urging her closer, she swallowed before picking up again in a rush. "You should change that shirt. There are spares in my wardrobe. Think they're Luigi's. Not exactly high fashion but would do for tonight, I suppose. Probably fit okay."

Gene nodded. "All right."

They waited a moment, eyes locked. Alex swallowed. "You – um – you'll have to let go of my wrist"

He released his hold without speaking and followed her silently up to her flat.

After struggling slightly with the key, Alex waved Gene through to the bedroom while she went to the kitchen, looking for a bottle of wine. "Shirts're in the wardrobe," she called unnecessarily. Gene nodded to himself, trying not to look at the rumpled cover on the bed as he made his way to the wardrobe. He opened the doors and saw them hanging together on the left of the rail. Alex's own clothes were alongside, including some familiar-looking tops and dresses. He ran his hand slowly across them before alighting on a shirt that seemed suitable – worryingly wide lapels but at least plain cotton and pale green in colour.

He pulled his tie loose and stuffed it into his pocket before dropping his jacket and wine-stained shirt onto a chair. He pushed his arms into the green one and was about to button it when a sound from behind caught his attention. Turning, he saw Alex at the door, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a corkscrew in the other.

"I – er – wondered if you'd like a glass," she said, waving the bottle vaguely in his direction. How long had she been watching him? Her gaze was darting around the room.

"Okay," he replied, not moving, shirt hanging open across his shoulders.

She found herself walking towards him, holding out the bottle and the corkscrew. "Can you help me?"

"Depends," he said slowly as she reached him, standing close, holding the bottle between them. "What do you need help with?"

"I can't seem to get this open."

His eyes drilled into hers, searching for any hint that she wanted the same as him. "I'm not sure you're trying very hard."

"I'm trying very hard, Gene," she replied quietly, "but for some reason I'm finding it very difficult. I need your help. I need you to do it for me."

A beat. "Am I hearing things? You need me?" His eyes glinted dangerously.

She cleared her throat. "It would seem so."

Her gaze shifted from his eyes to his lips as he prised the bottle of wine from her fingers. She wondered what his lips would taste like. Surely it was inevitable now? She felt rather than saw him place the bottle on the chair, not moving his body one millimetre away from hers as he did so.

He could smell her. She smelled of wine and smoke and berries – a perfect autumn day. Her breathing quickened as he lowered his head, murmuring her name before brushing her lips in a gentle, feather-light kiss. "Gene," she sighed, angling her head towards his.

"More?"

"More."

It was all the invitation he needed. Cupping her head in his hands, he drew her in for another kiss, deeper this time, his tongue sliding between her lips, curling against hers, sucking, nipping her lips, licking and testing and tasting.

She could feel his hands on her body, one twining through her hair, the other sweeping down her back to her waist, pulling her close against him. She gasped as heat spun through her, his exploration of her mouth making her weak with longing. She raised her hands, placing them flat beneath his open shirt, around his back, she couldn't pull him close enough. His erection pressed against her and she swayed towards him, circling her hips into his, desperate for more intimate contact.

"More?" he asked again, breathless against her lips, and at her nod he slid his lips along her jaw, her throat, pausing to swirl around her earlobe before reaching the point where neck met shoulder. Opening his mouth wide, he sucked hard, teeth and tongue against her sensitive flesh, and she clung onto his shoulders to stay upright.

"Good, Gene, so good," Alex whispered as he pulled her top free of her jeans, an arm still firmly around her waist while a hand stroked up her ribcage to her breast. "Ooh, yes," she cried, his fingers pinching at her nipple, and he growled against her throat at the feel of it hardening beneath his touch.

She brought her hands round to his front and swept them across his chest, loving the feel of his hard, warm flesh, then she slid them up towards his shoulders, down his arms, his shirt falling to a heap on the floor. "Better," she murmured, now able to join his explorations, kissing across his neck, his collarbone, flicking her tongue at his nipple, smiling as she heard him take a sharp breath.

"Only fair," he muttered, pulling away from her for a moment to draw her top over her head. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her, breasts spilling over a skimpy black bra, nipples erect beneath the delicate fabric, creamy white flesh waiting for his touch.

He bent his head, his lips at the point where the fabric of her bra met the curve of her breast. Reaching around, he unhooked the clasp at her back and pulled the straps along her shoulders, allowing the garment to follow her top to the floor. She was beautiful. He was deaf to everything but the roar in his ears as he gazed at her. Cupping her breasts in his palms, staring avidly as his thumbs stroked circles around her nipples, he dipped his head once more and took a nipple into his mouth, tonguing it taut. He groaned at the taste of her.

She shivered in his arms as he continued his assault on her breasts, his mouth and tongue on one, fingers working the other to a heavy peak, till she was squirming with desire. "More," she pleaded, tugging on his hair, pulling his mouth back to hers. "Please, Gene," she breathed between kisses, her hands on his belt, his fly. "Want more."

Groaning, Gene toed off his boots and socks and kicked away his trousers. He grabbed her around the waist and slid his hands across her arse, pulling her close so she was in no doubt about his arousal. "Won't be able to stop soon," Gene muttered against her neck, his hands flat on her bare back. "You sure about this?"

"Am," she mumbled, hooking her fingers into the elastic of his shorts and pushing down. Her eyes widened and breathing quickened as she caught a glimpse of him. Wow. She bit her lip. "Get on the bed."

"Are you telling a superior officer what to do?" He flipped the button on the waistband of her jeans and lowered the zip.

"Yes."

"Good." He peeled off her jeans and tugged at the tiny scrap of black satin that passed for knickers. In his fantasies she always looked perfect but real life trumped his imagination on every count. Her body was amazing. Blood pumped through him as he took her in. He wanted it all.

Hooking his arm under her knees, he carried her the short distance to the bed. They lay together for a moment, staring at each other, silent but for the sound of their breathing. He'd waited for this; felt like a lifetime. He still couldn't believe she wasn't going to say no. Then she flashed him a quick, devilish smile and he stopped thinking, instinct taking over. He pulled her to him, dizzy at the feel of her body against his, her thigh around his hip, his lips against hers. She raked her fingernails along his spine, wriggling closer, working her way above him. He lay on his back as she kissed down his chest, across his belly, to his hard, aching cock.

Kneeling astride him, she took hold of his length and made long, firm strokes, smiling as his hips bucked beneath her. He was so hard beneath her fingers, like steel wrapped in velvet, and it turned her on just to touch him, to know that he would soon be hers. She worked him slowly with one hand while the other dipped to cup his balls, and she leaned closer, breathing him in.

She couldn't resist. She had to taste him and she lowered her mouth to his cock, teasing at first, circling his tip with her tongue, licking along his shaft and back again before taking him fully into her mouth. Gene's muffled curses rang in her ears as she sucked, her lips stretched around him, her tongue lapping against his head. "Jesus, Alex, more," he hissed, his voice strained, and she swallowed him deeper into her throat, slickness growing between her own legs at the way he filled her mouth.

Gene looked along the length of his body, watching Alex wrap her lips around his cock, her tits swaying as she worked him, her legs apart as she sat across his thighs. Fucking hell, his fantasies hadn't even come close to this. He was desperate to come but also needed to make it last. Gathering his self-control, he pulled her back up his body, capturing her lips with his, tasting himself on her mouth.

He rolled her onto her back and, taking his weight on one hand, he slid the other across her breast. She cried out as he skimmed lightly across one hard nipple and he swept back, rolling the peak between finger and thumb. Dipping his head to her breast, he licked then squeezed hard, scraping his teeth across the tip. "God, yes," Alex moaned, need now pulsing fast between her legs, and Gene watched as her hand made its way across her stomach to the juncture of her thighs.

"That's my job," he growled, swatting her hand away, blazing a trail of kisses along her belly, moving to lie between her parted knees. He rubbed his cheek against the soft inside of her thigh, savouring her scent, before reaching to gently part her folds. "So beautiful," he muttered, staring hungrily at her slick centre.

He eased himself closer, resting on his elbows, and traced a slow path with his tongue along her core. She gasped as he found her clit, circling then licking, sucking gently, flicking, before trailing back, slipping inside her, leaving his thumb to continue the caresses across her tiny nub. "Gene, oh God, Gene," she cried as his hand and mouth swapped places, two fingers thrusting within her as his mouth closed over her clit. "So close, yes, God, please," she begged as hips rocked beneath him and her head rolled wildly from side to side.

His control, barely tethered, broke as she tightened around him, crying his name, spilling into his mouth as she reached her peak. He needed to be inside her. Barely allowing her chance to recover he drew himself back up her body, trailing kisses as he went, till could look into her eyes. She lay beneath him, dazed, panting, a small smile playing on her lips. She hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him down to her, sliding her tongue into his mouth, raising a leg around his back. She needed him inside her too.

Positioning himself, he lifted his head once more so that he could see her face as he entered her. He eased in slowly, inch by inch, and her eyes widened, lips parted, as he reached the hilt. She sighed up at him, "Gene, my God, Gene."

It was written across her face, as clear as the vodka she sometimes drank. He wasn't the only one feeling this way. A surge of triumph raced through him at the recognition. She felt it too. He stroked a finger gently across her temple, lowered his head to her ear. Whispered, "I know."

Gathering her close he began to thrust, trying to keep it slow but struggling to control his growing desire. She felt like nothing he'd ever known, hot and wet and absolutely perfect, shaped like she'd been made for him. She whimpered at his touch, begging for more, her hips meeting his thrusts, her hands gripping hard to his shoulders. He couldn't hold back, mumbling words into her neck that he never thought he'd use.

She rocked faster beneath him, urging him onwards, racing him to the finish. Having him inside her was like finding a piece she hadn't realised was missing. "Yes, now, Gene, yes," she cried as the heat rushed through her, washing across her body, and she ached for completion, to carry him with her. His strokes were getting faster, deeper, and she knew without words he was close. Angling her hips upwards, raising her knees, she held him within her as she came, crashing around him in flash of blinding pleasure. He followed quickly, flooding into her, her name on his lips as he collapsed above her, spent and undone.

He held onto her as long as he dared, listening to her breathing return to normal, feeling her heart rate slow alongside his own. She shifted slightly beneath him and he made to move away but she held him close, pressing kisses against his shoulder. He smiled into her neck, relieved, and tightened his arms around her even as he slid from her body. Rolling to his side and pulling her with him she found herself nestling beneath his arm, her head against his shoulder.

"Well," whispered Alex. "That was unexpected." She wasn't talking about the sex.

"Indeed." He planted a kiss on the top of her head. "I never knew. Hoped. But, well. Didn't think you'd ever feel – you know…" He petered off, his usual eloquence deserting him.

"Shush," she replied softly, placing a finger against his lips. "It's enough that I do."

He gathered her closer, hoping he'd never have to let her go. He needed to tell her. "Alex?"

She placed her hand on his chest, feeling the reassuring beat of his heart. "I know."

**The end**

~ o x o ~

**Thanks for reading this, and happy new year everybody.**

**I hope you've enjoyed the story – please let me know what you think, I'm always delighted to get your feedback.**

**And did anybody spot the link in the chapter titles?**


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